Peonies and Peril: Treehouse Hotel Mysteries, #1

By Sue Hollowell

She's returned to her old stomping ground and everything's the same… except for the flowerbed adorned with a dead body.

 

Chloe Carson has no clue what's next. Starting life from scratch after her husband's passing, the sixty-year-old is back in her hometown to ready the family's treehouse hotel for sale. But her six-month commitment heads into the weeds when the ornery garden club president is found pushing up daisies in her prized peony patch.

 

With her aging mom and bff topping the list of suspects, Chloe rolls up her sleeves and works alongside her rescued cocker spaniel to clear their names. But between prickly gossip, her triplet sisters, and a puzzling case of blackmail, the strong-willed widow fears she may never leave this small town again.

 

Can Chloe dig everyone out of a precarious plot before the real killer flees to greener pastures?

 

Peonies and Peril is the captivating first book in the Treehouse Hotel cozy mystery series. If you like zany characters, unique settings, and lovable furry companions, then you'll adore Sue Hollowell's well-cultivated whodunit.

 

Buy Peonies and Peril to get to the root of the crime today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Hollowell
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9798223570493

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Mom kept the books for the Cedarbrook Treehouse Hotel on a shelf along one wall. There were six bookcases with stacks of grid-lined paper journals. At least she had the sense to put a date on the front of each one. Trouble was, I had no idea what the date represented. But it was a start. Mom, Brittany, and I hunkered down in the office of the hotel, attempting to excavate any sense of order to the bookkeeping for the business.

Mom, why didn’t you ever get with the twenty-first century and use a computer? These books are a mess. I can’t even discern the basics of income and expenses. For example, what’s ‘tomorrow’s baby’?

Chloe, you were always such a worrywart. Don’t stress. I’ve been doing fine since Marty died and we still sometimes have guests.

I’m not a worrywart, huh, boy? My faithful companion looked up at me with big brown eyes.

What was that, dear? my mother questioned.

Nothing, Mom. Just talking to Max.

You and that dog. You’d think you were best friends. My gaze met Max’s in perfect understanding. He shrugged, and I sighed.

My head hurt and it was only 9:00 a.m. Unraveling the mess of books for this place would take a while. It was such a beautiful place. You felt like you’d gone back in time to your childhood. Who wouldn’t love staying in a treehouse? Most units had basic plumbing, some had heat. Each one was raised above the ground. You reached most places either through stairs or one even had a suspension bridge. No TVs. Each treehouse was on the edge of a central gathering area where you could have a campfire. If you closed your eyes when you were inside, you felt like you were the last person on the planet. Their names reflected local agricultural items: Crabapple Chalet, Buttercup Bungalow, Cherry Cottage, Morning Glory Manor, Snowberry Sanctuary, and Huckleberry Hut. The fact the place had deteriorated under Mom’s watch was not her fault. I just hoped I could help make it financially attractive to a buyer. I like a good number puzzle, but this was a doozy. Unlike any sudoku I’d ever mastered.

Why didn’t you at least hire an accountant? I’m shocked the IRS hasn’t descended and confiscated every asset you have.

I did, Chloe. I hired Walter on Sandy’s recommendation. He did the accounting for the Garden Club for a while, but he turned out to be a loser, so Edna fired him too.

I couldn’t tell if the place was salvageable or if I’d have to start over. That alone diverted my brain to a huckleberry vodka. But I’d wait until at least afternoon so I didn’t endure Mom’s wrath. Or maybe I wouldn’t. I’d get the wrath for something or other, might as well make it something I’d enjoy.

Seriously, Mom. I don’t know if I can fix this. You might just have to sell the hotel so someone with experience in these things can come in and do it the right way.

Chloe, no! We can’t sell. I’m sure you can handle it. You are an accountant, right? So we’re good.

Chloe the fixer. Always the one to get everyone out of a jam. Here’s an idea - don’t get into the jam in the first place. The weight of returning home pressed down on my chest. I missed my own space. The distance between me and my family. My own identity, separate from these crazy people. Taking care of others had always fallen to me. I was the oldest of four kids. But only by a few minutes. My sisters Zoe, Joey, and I were triplets. No doubt we were a massive handful for Mom. I never had kids, so I can’t even imagine one, let alone three at once. And if that weren’t enough, baby brother Harrison came along a year later. The fact we were all alive was probably a feat in itself for Mom.

Mom had her own drama. Seven husbands. Maybe she kept going until lucky number seven. It turned out to be true. Marty was a gem. Frankly, I don’t know what he saw in Mom. Four kids, six prior husbands, kind of a train wreck. But somehow they made it work. Marty seemed to get Mom. He brought out the best in her. For all of my life, her time with Marty made her the happiest. Not gonna lie, when they married I was skeptical. Mostly on Marty’s behalf. I sure missed him. When he passed with no kids, the hotel became Mom’s. I don’t know how she kept it going for all these years.

Brittany, do you understand the system? I asked.

Aunt Chloe, I just do what your Mom asks. We have these enormous books here where I write when someone makes a reservation and the amount they will pay. Then when I get a bill, I write a check and write that amount down next to it.

Heavens to mergatroyd, my head’s going to explode! I took a cleansing, deep breath. How am I ever going to get through this? And it’s no good arguing with Mom. She’s got her own revisionist history.

OK, I think I’ll take the most recent book and start from the beginning. Mom, what time do you need to be at Caroline’s for the Garden Club meeting?

Eleven o’clock.

I swear, an inch of dust covered the books. One spark and this whole place would explode in an inferno. I’d only been back a month, but it seemed like I’d never left. I loved my Mom. She had a hard life and did the best she could. I knew that. But I wanted to enjoy my retirement and keep my distance for the life I’d built.

***

If I could shape up this place to be more presentable, I’d only help my cause. I was a bit rusty at DIY projects, but maybe I’d have to break out my old tool belt. Frank and I had enjoyed remodeling in our spare time. I missed those times terribly with my husband. His passing was so sudden. The 1950s house we bought looked nothing like it did when we first moved in.

In the meantime, I cracked open the first book. Line one, Davenport family— $297.24. OK, that seems straightforward. Line two, Edges— $12.98. For all of my education and experience as an accountant, I’d never seen anything like this. And I’d worked for some doozies of a company. Maybe having all of this go up in flames wasn’t a bad idea after all.

Mom or Brittany, what is Edges for $12.98?

They looked at each other and shrugged.

Is it a company? I asked. Is it a product? It can’t be a guest. It’s too small of an amount.

Sorry, Aunt Chloe. Doesn’t ring a bell.

My phone buzzed. The sound rescued me from this accounting nightmare. Caroline was calling, saving me from the number jungle, for now.

Hi Caroline, what’s up? Caroline was a high school friend. Pretty much everyone in this town could claim that mantle. When you grew up in a town of about two thousand, everyone was